


Beguilement: Interlude

by itstonedme



Series: Beguilement Verse [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-06
Updated: 2008-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, set in modern day, this scene London, England.  Orlando is an aspiring architect, and Elijah is a high-end escort he met eight months previously in Amsterdam.  Part 2 of the Beguilement universe.</p><p>Originally posted on LJ August 2008 <a href="http://itstonedme.livejournal.com/10025.html#cutid1">here</a>; banner courtesy of Stormatdusk.</p><p>Disclaimer: A work of fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beguilement: Interlude

_London_

A misty drizzle is settling over the streets as Orlando parks outside the dry cleaners. Most days he still takes his car to work, despite the city toll; there’s no way around the routine onsite job inspections nor the myriad meetings with suppliers, contractors and clients. It’s a poor excuse, he knows. The four-cylinder hybrid engine does little to assuage his environmental guilt, which may or may not explain why he has attached himself to a firm so meticulous in working with the natural world, in taking organic architecture to another level. 

He doesn’t bother to lock the car door, just chirps the alarm and runs into the shop, sliding a pair of pickup tickets onto the counter while the customer ahead of him finishes up.

“Good morning, Mr. Bloom.” 

The clerk takes his ticket and goes into the back, pulling several dress shirts from the hanger belt and retrieving a tissue-wrapped packet from one of the shelving nooks. He hangs the shirts for Orlando to inspect and places the package on the counter, unwrapping its contents. Orlando glances briefly at it while he signs his slips and quickly nods for it to be rewrapped, it’s good. Snagging the shirts, he waits while the clerk quickly adheres an embossed sticker to keep the paper closed, then murmurs his thanks and hurries from the shop.

In the car, he stows the package in his briefcase and hangs the shirts on the ceiling handle over the back door. Checking his mirrors, he pulls into traffic. 

Since returning from Amsterdam, work has been non-stop. With the Dutch gallery project being green-lighted, activity has ratcheted into high gear, with long days and little time for more than blue-prints, meetings, phone calls and management, everywhere management. His relative youth, especially in a field where mastery doesn’t begin to really manifest itself until one passes the half century mark, has marked him -- not only within his firm but within the industry as well -- as somewhat of a organizational _wünderkind_. But for Orlando, the practice of architectural design will have to wait. The study, however, is continuously being absorbed. 

It is a rare morning, for he is able to start it without interruption. He closes the door to his office and hangs his jacket so that the damp won’t set the wrinkles. Firing up his lap top, he logs on, running through his phone messages while the emails download. The gallery owner needs some massaging, so he sends him a reply, requesting a time within the next hour for a brief phone conference with one of the contractors.

He sets his briefcase on the side desk and opens it, removing the tissue-wrapped packet. Unlocking his bottom drawer, he places it carefully inside, his fingers resting lightly on the paper as he looks at it. Slowly, his index finger slips under the sticker so that the edges rip apart. He carefully lifts the paper. 

Orlando inhales deeply, his eyelids fluttering shut. And while it is the soft slide of lemon-colored silk that his fingers touch, it is the memory of downy porcelain skin that they caress.


End file.
